


Merciful Powers

by Scruggzi



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Literary References & Allusions, MFMM Year of Tropes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, References to Macbeth, Then Jack out of tights quoting Shakespeare, This is basically just an excuse for Jack in tights quoting Shakespeare, Undercover, You're Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: Jack's going undercover at a theatre and Phryne has come over to help him try on his costume.





	Merciful Powers

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of thanks to Firesign for adding in semicolons - the sexiest kind of punctuation.

“I know I’ve said it before but Dot really is a marvel.”

Phryne stood back to admire Jack in his costume. He was probably too attractive for Macbeth; the tight fit of the leggings was especially delightful, and also giving her ideas.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he groused, but without any real bite.

“Nonsense. You were dying to tread the boards again and you know it.”

“All in the line of duty, Miss Fisher,” he muttered, pulling distractedly at the hem of the short upper hose, which were doing an excellent job of displaying his assets, and a very poor job of preserving his modesty.

“Don’t sulk Jack, or I shall be forced to revisit the idea of the codpiece,” she smirked up at him through her lashes. “In the interests of verisimilitude of course.”

He glared at her and she grinned back, entirely unabashed.

“It was traditional at the time,” she pointed out, reaching out to smooth the plush, black velvet of his doublet.

“I’m sure the audience will survive without it. Besides, I’m only supposed to be Carson’s understudy, it’s highly unlikely I’ll even need the costume. Dot really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He didn’t bother to mention the expense, the cost of the fabric would have put a real king to shame, but Phryne never had any patience when he complained about that sort of thing. She could afford it and she liked to indulge herself; sometimes that meant indulging him, he had learned to just to put up with it. There were worse hardships.

“You will if you can gather enough evidence to arrest him before opening night. The show must go on Jack, you know that. And besides, I’m still hoping for a private performance of my own.” Her hands slid down to encircle his waist, her fingers stroking lightly over the base of his spine.

He raised an eyebrow and quirked a slight smile as he looked down at her. She stood at least a head shorter than him in her bare feet, something he always found a little strange - her personality took up so much space.

“Macbeth is hardly a romance, Miss Fisher.” Despite his words, Jack’s voice had lowered and his hands had found her waist.

Phryne considered this. “Perhaps not, but it is most certainly a seduction. Power, in all its forms, has always been a temptation.”

“True,” he agreed, reaching up to brush his fingers through the silky strands of her hair, “and very difficult to resist.”

“Why resist it, Jack? The alternative is so much more fun.”

Her hands were moving lower, gripping the taught muscles of his buttocks, pulling him closer.

“Such impatience, Miss Fisher.” His voice was amused, but his expression thoughtful, he was considering how best to play this game. “So, am I to be driven to madness, abandoning all noble principles in my lust for power?” His serious expression did not reach his eyes. There had been a time where that thought might have frightened him. Not anymore.

“Hmm, sounds good to me. As long as you don’t forget who’s really in charge.” She countered his deadpan with a serious moue of her own; they had always been evenly matched.

“And that would be the immoral temptress, whose devious wiles brought a good man to his knees?” He sounded amused; it was at best a cartoonish parody of her own character, and one that had long since ceased to trouble her.

Phryne gave a slight smile of agreement and brought a hand up to stroke down his cheek and along the line of his jaw. There was an expression his eyes she couldn’t quite place, something exciting and a little dangerous; she loved it when he tried to beat her at her own game.

“Your face, my thane is as a book, where men may read strange matters to beguile the time.”

Jack chuckled. “Very good Miss Fisher, although I’m not sure I entirely agree with your interpretation of the text.”

“You have a better one, Jack?”

The hand still at her waist found the cord of her robe and untied it, slipping underneath to smooth his fingers gently across the bare skin of her back.

“Macbeth always knew he couldn’t resist temptation forever. All he really needed was an excuse.”

Phryne was fairly sure that analysis had very little to do with Shakespeare, but Jack’s hands had moved around to palm her breasts, and his lips had found the spot just under her ear that made her knees weak. Literary criticism could definitely wait.

She began to unlace the front of his doublet; the sensual texture of the velvet was familiar enough, but there was something almost illicit in feeling it on Jack. It was a particularly nice way to unwrap him, especially as his loose shirt underneath was open at the neck, revealing a delicious expanse of golden skin, and a faint smattering of hair.

She tilted her head to catch his mouth in a kiss, deep and forceful, her tongue slipping behind his teeth. She could feel him smiling; he was up to something.

Without warning Jack spun them round, his hand behind her head, and pressed her into the wall beside his bed, a development to which Phryne responded with considerable enthusiasm - noting with satisfaction that the addition of the codpiece was rapidly becoming a moot point. He backed off very slightly, sliding his hands along her arms to force her robe to the floor.

She hadn’t troubled to dress after her bath; the air of the room was cool against her naked skin and the contrasting textures of silk and cotton in Jack’s costume felt sublime as she rubbed against him, kissing and nipping at the exposed skin at his throat. His fingers were still tangled in hers and he forced her hands up against the wall over her head – _so that was his game_ \- well, she could certainly work with that. She tilted her head up and bit her lower lip, grinning at him in challenge, then urged him on with her teeth and tongue as she met his lips once more.

Jack held her wrists in one hand, the other moving back down to tease her nipples, his head tilting back down to her neck. The scrape of his teeth against her pulse point sent pleasant tremors down her spine and she hummed appreciatively as he brought his lips up to her ear.

“Stars hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires.” His voice was so low she felt it as a delicious vibration all the way to her toes, making her shiver in anticipation and delight.

“A regicide, Inspector?” she gasped, “you shouldn’t have.”

Her cheek earned her a bite on the ear, which he soothed over with his tongue before releasing her hands so she could pull his shirt out from the ridiculous hose she had dressed him in. Without the context of shirt and doublet, Phryne privately agreed that, however well they displayed his thighs, the upper hose looked a little comical. They would just have to come off. Jack bent to remove his boots before letting her unbutton him and pull the hose down. She took the opportunity to appreciate the way the leggings outlined his powerful thighs, and traced the line of his erection with strong, dextrous fingers, feeling the twitch of his cock under her hand. She never did see much point in resisting temptation, although for some time Jack had been the exception to that rule. Finally giving in to it had, so far, been one of the best decisions they had ever made.

Phryne rose back up to kiss Jack’s mouth again, backing him onto the bed. He shifted his head up onto the pillows, pulling her on top of him until she was straddling his thighs, moaning appreciatively as she ground herself against him, his kisses eager and hungry. His hands moved to her legs and he urged her upwards, cupping her buttocks so he could pull her closer, grazing his teeth along the inside of her thighs.

Phryne gripped onto the headboard for support, her limbs trembling in pleasure as Jack drew relentless circles around her clit with the stiff point of his tongue. By the time his fingers began to stroke into her in a steady rhythm, she had forgotten all about their game and had surrendered entirely to the waves of ecstasy washing inexorably over her, unable to do anything but moan his name, over and over like a curse.

She pulled away, her legs still trembling, and let her weight sag against her arms which still gripped the headboard, then slid a little unsteadily down until she was lying full length across Jack’s body. They indulged in a feast of messy kisses, and she licked herself off his lips as she recovered. His hands stroked lazily across the small of her back and she could feel the hot pressure of his cock through the tight cotton of his leggings.

“Mmm,” she purred, “much as I applaud your theatrical talent, Jack, that was definitely better than Shakespeare.”

“Sacrilege!” he protested in mock horror, eyes twinkling at her.

Phryne smiled a languid, lascivious smile at him. “By far the least interesting sin I intend to commit this evening, Inspector.” She began to trail kisses down Jack’s chest, pausing at the waistband of his leggings to stroke him once more through the thin fabric before pulling them off, along with his undershorts, and settling between his thighs.   

At the first touch of her mouth, Jack let out a moan, followed by a delicious rumble of expletives as Phryne began to swirl her tongue slowly around his cockhead.

“Jesus Christ, fuck...fuck, Phryne…”

She grinned, lifting off of him and licking a long, slow stripe along his shaft.

“Blasphemer.”

Her hands joined her mouth, ensuring he was in no state to respond, he could only gasp and thread his fingers through her hair, helpless in his building need for release.

“Please, please, I want…”

“What do you want, Jack?” she whispered into the skin of his thigh, still working him with her hands.

“I…I want to fuck you.” His voice was a ragged gasp as he clung desperately to his last shred of sanity and self-control.

Phryne’s eyes sparkled in anticipation. This was what she had been thinking about since she first saw him in that costume - Jack Robinson, wild with passion and uncontrolled. It was a glorious thing.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

She sat up and he followed, kissing her fiercely, then reaching down to take her nipple in his mouth, suckling until she moaned. When she moved to straddle him again he pushed her back, manoeuvring her until she was once again on her knees, facing the head of the bed. She felt strong hands at her hips, lips and tongue and teeth along her spine.

“Ready?”

He always asked; even undone, he was ever the gentleman. It was endearing. She merely pushed herself back towards his waiting cock in answer, twisting her head round to blow him a kiss, her eyes daring him to do his worst. Or his best. She rather appreciated both. He accepted her challenge with a nod and a slight, downturned smile, thrusting into her hard, making them both gasp.

She grabbed onto the headboard once again as he began to fuck her in earnest, no hint of the gentleman in the pounding of his hips and the rough pinch of his fingers on her nipples. Every time she drove him to this, Phryne felt it as a triumph, even as she willingly submitted to the power and strength of his body; at long last she had broken through his iron clad control and made him lose his mind in wanton pleasure. It couldn’t last long. They came together in an incoherent delirium, both well beyond the power of speech, let alone of Shakespeare, and fell sated into each other’s arms, breathless and happy, sharing smiles and clumsy kisses against sweat slicked skin.

“I do love it when you submit to my whims, Jack.” She nuzzled into his chest, tracing soft circles around his nipple as he stroked his fingers between her shoulder blades and across her back. He pressed a contented kiss into her hair.

“Who could refrain, who had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make love known.” His confession was a whisper, but it came without trepidation. He was no longer afraid of her.

She turned her face up to his, her expression one of incandescent joy, as beneath the hand still resting against his chest, she felt the steady beat of a noble and courageous heart.

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic happened because once, back in the dawn of time, a boy tried to chat me up with the 'stars hide your fires...' line and it in no way worked for him (he was an asshat, plus he incorrectly claimed it was from Hamlet, I was unimpressed). It occurred to me that Jack could totally pull that line off.
> 
> All of the Macbeth quotes are - in the spirit of phrack - actually about murder.
> 
> 'Merciful powers' is from Banqo's line 'merciful powers/ Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature/Gives way to in repose!' - i.e. he's worried his mate Macbeth might be considering a little killing spree after the witches' prophecy claims he's going to be king.
> 
> Phryne's 'like a book' line is by Lady Macbeth to her husband i.e. - I can see you there spouse, thinking about murder, and I like it.
> 
> 'stars hide your fires' is Macbeth, and his 'black and deep desires' were for murder and treason, not some good, healthy shagnanigans. Would have been a much shorter play otherwise.
> 
> Jack's final declaration of love is actually Macbeth's excuse for killing the two doorkeepers outside King Duncan's chamber after his wife drugged them, then smeared their faces with blood to make it look as if they had murdered the king in a drunken rage. Macbeth was claiming to have killed them in revenge for the love of the king he had in fact murdered himself.
> 
> Context - clearly very important.


End file.
